Title: Discombobulated
Author: Jessie Blackwood
Pairing: Mycroft/Lestrade
Fandoms: Sherlock
Rating: PG
Note: These are a series of ficlets, short fiction pieces (I hesitate to call them drabbles because I think they're too long, despite the loose definition being 500 words), inspired by one-word prompts from my followers on Tumblr, because I wanted to celebrate passing the 50 follower mark.
Over the last two years since losing my best friend and soulmate, Heather, everyone on Tumblr, particularly the Mystrade crew, have quite honestly saved my life and my sanity. So thanks, guys. These little one-shots are prompted by all of you and are my thank you. I hope you enjoy.
Summary: This is by way of a small tribute to one of my favourite comedians, Ken Dodd, who died recently aged 90. He was an icon during my childhood, and comes from Bokkle-Oran-Doove on Tumbr, whose prompt was Discombobulated. I have used it in a way, but with a little change, you'll see why.

***

"Damn it all, Ken Dodd's died," Greg announced.

"Who?" Mycroft said.

"He was 90.” Greg registered what Mycroft had said and frowned. “Ken Dodd? You know, Knotty Ash, the Jam Buttie mines, tickling stick, the Diddy Men?”

The was a silence, during which Greg registered that there had been no reply from Mycroft. The man was staring at him strangely. "Gregory, are you quite well?" he asked, worry tinging his tone.

"Fine, why?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Bloody Hell, Mycroft, were you raised with no television?"

"Not at all..."

"What was it, Blue Peter and Newsnight?"

"Certainly not, Gregory. I was allowed to watch a few dramas too."

"I Claudius and Upstairs Downstairs, hm?" Greg received a pointed look.

"Mummy did not approve of frivolity. Panorama and Tomorrow’s World were allowable."

"Seriously? Were you not allowed to laugh then?"

"I realise certain areas of my viewing history are somewhat lacking..."

"So how come you have no idea about Ken Dodd? You need an education, mate."

"It is simply that I may have missed certain televised offerings of dubious content, Gregory."

"Dubious content, hm?"

"I know my mother's opinion often differs wildly from the rest of the general populous, but I fail to see why that might be considered a disadvantage in some cases. Frankly some offerings that make it to the small screen are not worth their budget."

"Yes, but this is Ken Dodd we're talking about here. He was amazing. He was a very funny comedian and also clean. There were a few suggestive jokes but never anything outright tasteless. Not many are like him. He was saucy, not crude. Seems like you can't tell jokes on TV these days without a peppering of smut or swearing."

"That is unfortunately rather true."

"You could take your kids to see him and you knew they'd never be exposed to inappropriate jokes, beyond a few old fashioned mother-in-law insults. Did you know, he was in the Guinness Book of Records for telling 1500 jokes in three and a half hours?" "Certainly a noteworthy feat for a comedian."

"Yup. My grandparents took me to see him on stage once, Weston-super-Mare. He was so good, kept going for hours, sent the orchestra home eventually. Had us crying with laughter. Told the manager of the theatre to give him the keys and he'd lock up."

"Great Heavens."

"He was known for it, apparently."

"Told the audience if anyone had to leave to catch a bus, he wouldn't be offended." "Are you able to give me an example of his humour, Gregory?"

"Oh, well..." Greg dredged his memory. "He used to walk on stage brandishing a fluffy duster, one of those long ones on a stick, and say stuff like “how tickled I am, how tickled to see you all here tonight.” Or… “By Jove, missus, I am discomknockerated to see you here,” that was one of his. Must have based that one on discombobulated. He really loved long words. Created a few new ones too. Tattyfilarious, that was one. He had plenty of one-liners, but his delivery was unique." Greg got out his phone and did a quick search of YouTube. He found a recording and made Mycroft watch a five minute compilation of Dodd's best. "Did you know I have kleptomania? But when it gets bad, I take something for it. I haven't spoken to my mother-in-law for 18 months. I don't like to interrupt her..." By the time it was over, Mycroft was laughing along with Greg.

"I think I may have missed out on something there," Mycroft agreed.

"Well, it was fun. He wanted to entertain people. Might interest you to know that apparently he could have been an opera singer, his voice was good enough but they told him he looked too strange.”

“Strange?”

“Something like that, I’m sure I remember reading it somewhere. His teeth stuck out and they said he’d never get work looking like that, so he went into comedy.” Greg chuckled. “What a beautiful day,” he said. “What a beautiful day, for wearing a kilt and standing upside down in the middle of the road saying, ‘How’s that for a lampshade?’”

Mycroft shook his head. “Well, there’s one thing I can say for him. He has obviously left behind a wonderful legacy. Not many can say their words will continue to entertain after they are gone.”

Greg grinned. “Glad they entertained you too, you need to laugh more, love. You are so gorgeous when you laugh.” For that Mycroft had no reply, but a soft blush crept across his cheeks. Greg laughed and hugged him hard. Oh yes, he would definitely be introducing more comedy to Mycroft’s playlist…

***